In Plain Sight
by MournfulSeverity
Summary: Fifteen years have passed since Harry's defeat of Voldemort, likely his most successful prospect in life. What followed was a failed marriage and a desk job not nearly as glamorous as he once hoped. Stuck in a mundane life, one person has the potential to change all that.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling, whether she likes it or not.**

**A/N: I am a woman with no experience in m/m relationships. I've written my fair share of smut, but not m/m smut. I'll try my absolute best to make this a compelling story, but I always appreciate tips and/or constructive criticism. **

**This was written for Drarryland:2019.**

**Prompt: Your third Detention will be served with Harry or Draco - You must write either Harry or Draco suffering punishment/consequences at the hands of the other - either 1)Humorously -OR- 2) using Angst -OR- 3) Explicitly.**

Xxxc

Harry leaned heavily into the broad doorframe of his office, his arms folding across his broad chest. His green eyes scanned the office space with a severity he had learned. His eyes narrowed in endless scrutiny and his back straightened so as to hold him taller. His short height was masked by the presence Robards had taught him. Gone was the indignant, easily provoked boy of his Hogwarts years, replaced now by a slender yet well built man who never let his anger boil to the surface.

He supposed his life was easier now. He'd run into his fair share of dark wizards after the fall of Voldemort, whether it was death eaters attempting to take back what they had lost, to avenge their master or adolescent teenagers that thought dark magic made for a fun prank. "The results never last" was always their excuse, indicating that the welts, the scratches they had caused were already fading, the broken bones could be mended. Few of them understood that such attacks left implications they could never see. Maybe that's why Harry cared so much, he had a few of his own.

He wasn't sure he could call it abuse, back then snapping a belt across a child's backside was merely punishment, correction. Harry imagined many of his comrades had been subject to the very same, save for Ron Weasley. The exception to nearly everything.

It was that thought that led his eyes to the man with rust colored locks, his best mate after all these years. Ron's face was turned away, focused on a piece of parchment laid out on the desk before him. Harry was too far away to catch an unsuspicious glance, but the scarlet shaded ears protruding from the equally bright hair gave him enough. "Weasley." He barked, the shifting of parchment in the office dropping to a standstill. Ears were strained, hoping to catch a whisper of the punishment, some gossip to be spread around the water cooler.

Ron pushed himself up from the desk, his eyes not meeting Harry's as he padded in the direction of the auror – _head auror. _Harry stepped back as he approached, turning his body sideways and leaving Ron room to slip by. His eyes caught a glance of the silver trim lining the edges of Ron's midnight blue sleeves and felt a flicker of jealousy at the attire. The uniform had been changed shortly after Harry's promotion – one that didn't require such silly things. He wore deep red dress robes, a callback to his Gryffindor roots instead. It was silly, he knew that. He hadn't had such stability since 1997, nearly fifteen years ago. Part of him craved such simplicity.

Harry shook his head, giving three jerks of his wand. One allowed the door to slam shut, closing the two men inside, the second shuttering the blinds of the windowed wall, and the third to cast a wordless muffliato. He'd been privy to office gossip only once in his life, after he'd gotten his ass handed to him by Robards. It was due to the bloody Extendable Ears, a Weasley invention he now cursed them for. Muffliato had been a routine ever since.

He reclined in the leather chair, hands going behind his head and legs crossing atop the edge of the desk. "What's this, then?" Harry asked lightly, the forced anger of before gone. He gestured to the red blush Ron was incapable of Hiding.

"Mi slipped me a note, that's all." Ron gave a chuckle and surprisingly some of the embarrassment dissipated.

"The Minister's understudy detailed all the dirty things she'd like to do to you?" Harry raised an eyebrow in scolding though the teasing grin on his lips ruined his façade.

"Miss it, do you?"

Harry gave a shrug; the truth was he wasn't sure. He'd loved Ginny, that much he knew, but sometimes love wasn't enough. A divorce wasn't what he wanted, to put distance between himself and his three children. To lose the vibrant woman he woke up to day in and day out, but perhaps he'd lost that years before. Their relationship had been strained for some time, each tied down by their job rather than the importance of their family. When seeing one another being a chore, an obligation, that's when they realized it was over.

Now, Harry saw his children every other weekend. The one part of their situation that physically pained him. They were better off, he knew it. Ginny had reconnected with Dean Thomas at a memorial event. They'd been married within the year. Three years later and the two of them still behaved like newlyweds. Something he and Ginny had never had.

Maybe it was the war, the knowledge that neither of them might make out alive. She had shown him a love during that time he'd only seen sparkles of. His aunt and uncle had never had it and he'd been privy only to the moments a camera had captured of his parents. A happiness he now knew could be falsified. No, this too lay with the Weasleys, Molly and Arthur. Even now, their love for one another overrode anything he had ever known, ever felt.

"Yes." He answered finally, after the silence had grown tense. He couldn't always admit that he missed Ginny, but he missed the brightness that shown on Ron's face when he mentioned Hermione's name, the smirk that hid nighttime encounters. Harry missed the only family he'd ever truly known. "Gin has the kids this week. You and Hermione interested in dinner at my place this weekend?"

Ron's lip curled in hesitancy, but the look he gave Harry made him wonder if some of his devastation had shown through – _again. _"We'd love to, mate, but Mi promised the kids some excursion in London – A library probably." He rolled his eyes. "She's dragging me along with her."

"There's no such thing as too much knowledge, Ronald." Harry mimicked, his voice eliciting an embarrassing squeak. Ron glared and Harry waved a hand in nonchalance. "I've been looking for someone to spend some extra time on the Nott case. Maybe I'll do it myself."

"You'll never meet another girl this way. You've got to get out there, _live a little."_

Harry sighed. He'd heard this same insistence for so long, maybe it was time he listened. The problem was he and Ron had two different opinions on the type of person that would interest him. He'd learned long ago that breasts didn't fall into the category. "There's this café I've been meaning–"

"_Café?" _Ron gave a bark of laughter. "You've gone soft in your old age, mate. I'll talk to her; she'll understand why I can't accompany her."

Harry had no doubt about that. Hermione was just as bad. "Oh no." He insisted, perhaps too quickly. "_You_ are not going to be my wingman. Who knows the kind of trollop I'll come home with."

"_Hey!" _Began his angry shout of protest, Harry cutting him off before he could finish.

"Don't give me that. I've seen the women you ogle." He stood, shuffling the already perfect stack of parchment in front of him and lifting the muffliato. "Get back out there, see what you can find out about the Tintwhistle case."

Ron followed his orders, giving him a mock army salute before heading from the room.

"Don't forget I'm your boss!" Harry called after him, giving a disgruntled shake of the head. He plopped back down, fingers running through the strands of hair he refused to admit were growing gray. He removed the circular glasses from his nose, placing them on the broad desk in front of him. A hand wiped down his face, urging the exhaustion away. Maybe what he needed this weekend was a nap.

A sharp rap came at the open door and a groan escaped him. Fifteen minutes, that was all he had left of the day. Just fifteen more minutes and he'd be back in his flat, sprawled across his mattress and hopefully asleep. He glanced up at the intruder, not bothering to hide his disappointment. His eyes met that of solid mercury, of platinum blonde hair slicked back in disgusting arrogance.

"What is it, Malfoy?" The junior auror stepped in the room without invitation, the door shutting behind him. He slipped a short piece of parchment onto the desk before taking his own seat. Harry gripped the paper, dragging it in front of him and scanning the words scrawled across it. "What the hell did you get yourself into this time?"

"I was sure that slip said _exactly _what I did." His face contorted in mock confusion. "A charge for trespassing."

"Trespassing?" Harry waved the paper in anger. "You didn't extend your welcome at some establishment; you were found on the grounds of Azkaban!"

"For good reason."

"Which was?"

"Unimportant."

"_Damnit, _Malfoy. Why wasn't I contacted directly? This is dated a week ago, how am I just hearing about this?"

Draco gave a self-important shrug, slouching into a more comfortable position. Harry remained tight lipped, staring at the man across from him. _You've got to get out there, live a little. _His eyes scanned the gelled back strands of gold, the eyes that seemed to taunt him. Harry's gaze dropped further, looking momentarily at the tight fitting robes, the curves of muscle they betrayed. He could feel his pants beginning to tent, a surge of want. He had to get Draco out of here. "Meet me here Saturday night. We've got a case to check out." He expected a rebuttal, a roll of the eyes, at the very least a huff of annoyance. Harry received nothing. Instead, Draco stood. Adjusting his robes and retreating as if they'd discussed little more than what they had for lunch.

The door was slammed for what Harry hoped was the final time. Blinds still drawn, leaving him utterly alone, he placed a hand at his growing erection. "Ten more minutes." He mumbled aloud.

Xxxx

Harry stumbled into his flat, one thing still on his mind – or one person, rather. He wasn't sure what it was. Draco's auror application had been accepted just over a year ago. Harry had accepted it himself, not for who Draco was, but for what he was capable of. During that time, he had spent an unfortunate amount of time yelling at the junior auror, Draco always finding himself in trouble.

Today had been far from their first encounter. Perhaps it was the conversation with Ron that had taken place just before. Maybe it was the fact that his mind had lingered too long on the loss of love, of intimacy. He'd be lying if he said he didn't crave it, to be wanted by another human being. To feel scratches of desire marring his back.

Gone was the need to sleep, reawakened by something else entirely He and Draco had only had sparse conversations through the years, nothing of substance, and most of the time mockingly. They'd hissed insults at each other in the Hogwarts corridors, thrown them openly at other times. Harry had despised the other boy for the first several years before realizing that wasn't it at all.

No, he'd had a crush on Draco Malfoy for far longer than he cared to admit.

Ron was right. Ron was always bloody right. He had only been with two other people since his divorce with Ginny was finalized. He was hard up, no matter how eagerly he wished to deny that. Sex hadn't come often enough in the years that had passed, whether he was too involved with his job or simply appalled at getting to know someone knew, he hadn't bothered to try.

It was too hard being Harry Potter. The scar on his forehead had faded, but his fame never had. His name was whispered in legend these days, a whole generation had been born and grown in the years that passed since his final fight against Voldemort. He was treated now as little more than a myth by those that hadn't been old enough to witness it themselves. It was almost disheartening; his life's work being regarded as little more than fiction.

Partners, however, were in abundance. He'd rejected more offers than he'd actually accepted, been too worried that the whispers of want were made because of who he had been, what he had done, rather than who he was. Few of them, he was afraid, were made out of pure sexual desire. But, Draco had been immune to that.

He had grown beside Harry, they had taken classes together, had launched spells at one another. They had been there for one another's failures and the few triumphs in-between. The only problem was the fair-haired boy had never shown any reciprocating feelings.

Harry blinked away the intrusive thoughts. He could hope for more in two short days, for now he had something to take care of. He had had to wait for several long minutes inside his office before his erection faded. He had hurried from the place without so much as a glance at any of the other employees, even Ron. He'd felt an unmistakable blush in his cheeks as he made his way to the elevators and through the atrium of the Ministry, afraid that what he wanted was too obvious.

It hadn't mattered of course. The few people that milled about had concerns of their own, paying him little attention. For someone who had been so desperate to hide, acting the way he did was just the way to garner _more _attention, not less. But, now he was alone.

He grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey from the fridge, ignoring the otherwise emptiness of it. He needed food, something more substantial than alcohol. With a tap of his wand, the bottle top was removed with hiss of carbonation. He tipped the bottle back, allowing the abrasive liquid to spill down his throat and relishing in the trail of fire it left behind.

Harry placed the bottle down after a generous chug, loosening the tie from around his neck and pulling it above his head. He shrugged from the cloak of his robes, hooked a finger around each button of his shirt, undoing it and depositing on the floor without a care. Next came the dress shoes, the belt of his pants. He stripped until he was left in nothing but his undershirt. With a fistful of underpants in one hand and a cold bottle in the other, he made his way to the couch.

He took another swig of alcohol, feeling himself relax beneath its influence. Those gray eyes. He wondered what it would take to soften them, to bring the mercury within to a liquid state. He wanted to know what it felt like to run his hands through the coarse confines of gel that contained the blonde hair. How it would feel for Draco to slip inside him, their naked bodies writhing together as one. Harry grasped his cock, bringing the shaft in an upward motion before his hand slid down again. He imagined the pressure he was giving himself belonged to a very specific someone else.

Flashes of Draco slipped through his mind as he pleasured himself, distant tingles of interest as he questioned certain things. What would his own name sound like spilling from Draco's lips in orgasm? Would it be the rough, shout of 'Potter' that he'd heard so many times before? Or a sensual whisper of Harry, the vowel of his name dragged out in orgasm?

His balls tightened further at the thought, cum spilling from him and he relaxed. He was done waiting, done imaging Draco as he masturbated. On Saturday, he was determined to find out if he had a chance at something _real._


	2. Chapter 2

"This is my punishment, then?" Draco looked Harry up and down, taking the sight if him in before clearing his throat. "Sitting here with _you?"_

Harry reclined back with a thump, nursing a bottle of stale muggle beer. A smirk crossed his lips as the drink was pulled from his mouth. "Does this look like a punishment?" His voice was soft, blending in with the murmur of drunken voices in the bar.

Draco crossed his arms in annoyance, his eyes narrowing in Harry's direction. "No, it rather looks like a date."

Harry sputtered, coughing on the liquid he had tipped into his mouth before dragging the back of his hand across his lips. "If this was a date you'd know it. I would never subject a significant other to…well, _this." _He gestured at their surroundings, the rings the dotted the tables, the crumb littered floor.

"Then what are we waiting for?" The words came out as a growl. He'd had plans for tonight, ones he'd been forced to cancel to spend the evening in a dodgy bar with _Potter_ of all people. Although, he couldn't help his lingering gaze, it'd been years since he'd seen Potter let loose. The Ministry overworked him, he'd become too tightly wound and brusque as a result.

His muggle jeans fit him nicely. He was no longer swimming in fabric, having somehow grown up in clothes that were too big for him. His shirt was perhaps a little too tight, but Draco wasn't about to complain.

He realized his question had been met with silence and he drew his attention back to the pub, focusing on Harry's face rather than the curiosity of what lay beneath.

His brow had twitched inward, watching Draco carefully, his lips flattened into something resembling a frown. "Unimportant." Harry sneered, bringing back Draco's answer from days before. The amber colored bottle was returned to the table with a thud, the contents having been emptied. "Why don't you tell me instead what you were doing at Azkaban?"

Draco shuddered at the thought, the cold. The black water that surrounded the prison was icy, the edges that lapped the bank frozen in frost. The drop in temperature had wormed its way beneath his cloak, causing him to shiver in the shadows cast by the dementors above. "I think you know." He glowered finally, unable to meet the eyes that reminded him of the first day of spring.

"I do." Harry sympathized. "But, I still need you to say it."

His eyes remained fixed on the laminate table that should have been replaced years ago. He knew he was lucky, he had expected a firing for what he had done, not a night out. As much as he hated to admit it, Harry bloody Potter had control over his life, his career. "I wasn't trying to break them out. I'm not stupid." A barely suppressed scoff came from across the table and he clenched his fist. "I just had to see for myself."

"And what were you doing there in the first place? _During your shift?"_

"Dorkins."

"The creature smuggler?"

Draco nodded. "The North Sea is supposed to hold a new breed of kelpie" He shrugged, trying to pass of the situation as something minor though he knew it wasn't. "I got curious."

Harry's mouth was twisted to the site, contemplating Draco's words. His brow was lowered in suspicion and when he spoke, the words were sounded slowly. "And you decided a memory charm on the guard would be a wise idea?"

"I almost didn't show you the slip at all." He chuckled, trying to lighten the heavy mood. If this wasn't his punishment, then what was?

"This isn't a laughing matter, Malfoy. You could be fired for this."

"That's your decision, then? Termination?"

"We'll see how tonight goes." He gave a jerk of his head, indicating to the door that had swung open during their conversation, to the man seated at the bar.

Draco squinted across the room, eyes falling on equally unrecognizable heads. He opened his mouth to question Harry when he caught a shift of movement, a wand. He followed the arm up to it's owner. Scruff dotted the man's chin, a short, well trimmed beard hanging from his face. His hair was a dark mahogany, cut short against his head. "Theodore?" He whispered, mainly to himself. He hadn't seen the man in years.

"We've been tracking him." Harry chimed in, answering the question that had begun to form in Draco's mind. "He comes here every Saturday, 7:36 PM on the dot."

"Why?"

"That's what were trying to find out. You're father hated anyone that wasn't of pureblood or acted like it, did he not?" Draco snapped back to face harry, an unexpected and nearly forgotten anger burning inside of him. Harry must've noticed the barely suppressed rage, giving a tiny shake of his head. "Calm down, Malfoy. All I'm saying is guys like Nott learned they could get lost in a muggle crowd because of people like Lucius Malfoy."

His fingers clenched again at the impermissible use of his father's name. Only when his own fingernails began to dig into his flesh did he stop, focusing instead on the words still coming from Potter's mouth.

"…went missing. We think he's connected."

"What?"

Using his pointer finger, Harry slid his circular glasses farther up his nose. It was then that Draco noticed the deep lines beneath his eyes, the exhaustion. Something in him had dulled, been snuffed out. The vibrancy he had once hated so much was gone, replaced by faded desire. Guilt welled up within him. He intentionally made Potter's life harder. "That's all this is then? Tracking?" He forced the words, desperate for the conversation to move forward.

"That depends."

"You keep saying that.

"It does." He shrugged as if the reasoning was obvious. He lifted the bottle in example, speaking again. "Did you not notice that no one has asked if I'd like another? That we haven't been visited by a waitress?"

No. He hadn't. But, it was true. No one shot them even an accidental glance. It was like they weren't even there

"They can't see us, they can't hear us. I'd like to keep it that way if Nott over there behaves."

"Why don't you arrest him? Put an end to this? If he's truly the perpetrator-"

"And if he's not?" Harry intervened. "I can't arrest him for sitting, minding his own business. I'll land my own ass in trouble and yours right along with it."

"Then what's the importance of coming here?"

"Waiting for him to do something. I think this may be part of his alibi, but I can't be sure."

Xxxx

Draco pulled back the long, black sleeve of his shirt, glancing at the watch on his wrist. They'd been here an hour, doing little but twiddle their thumbs and send each other the occasional awkward glance. They'd run out of topics to discuss long ago and we're left in the sour smelling pub. The sweat of it's occupants seemed as much apart of the place as the wooden boards and alcohol. Draco had the intense desire to scrub himself clean.

"Why do you wear that? It's July." Harry blurted, his words unwelcome. It had taken him long enough to say something, to point out the long sleeves in the sweltering heat. Draco could feel beads of sweat wetting the back of his neck, his hair.

He'd grown used to the unnecessary warmth a jumper provided, no longer disturbed by it as he had been in the beginning, but his nerves were beginning to grate on him. There were far too many people occupying the establishment, too many loud voices, too many clatters of glass as bottles were exchanged. The dew building on him had little to do with his attire any more. He was almost provoked to do something to Nott, to get himself out of here.

"You know why." He shot a glance at his left arm incase Potter was as daft now as he'd been at Hogwarts. The mark was now every much a part of him as the mole on his shoulder. Unwanted, unsightly, but there just the same. Even if it had faded to little more than a scar, he knew it was there.

Harry said nothing, puckering his lips instead, hopefully realizing that his curiosity had been unwarranted. Draco didn't push it.

He stood abruptly, smacking his knee on the underside of the table, seeing Harry's long ago emptied bottle to the floor with a shatter. Harry was right behind him, his eye having caught the same motion. Nott was leaving.

Harry's wand was in his hand before Draco could even question where he kept it. He followed suit. During his time at the auror office, he had filed mostly paperwork. Dorkins was his first case, and he'd likely screwed that up. His body flooded with excitement at the prospect of action, a part of his life that had once been ordinary but had dwindled ever since. He realized – as he weaved after Harry, around far too many drunken patrons – that he was also interested in seeing Harry fight.

Harry had fought off the Dark Lord before he could even speak, had killed people before he could properly hold a wand. His activities were well whispered in the school, but they remained mostly that. Draco only remembered the scene of him antagonizing Snape – _failing – _after the murder of Dumbledore. He'd witnessed little of Harry's final fight with the Dark Lord, his family having fled, and that had been that. He would never admit that Potter had intimidated him, that his own skills were lacking, but maybe, just this once, they could fight alongside each other.

Draco skidded to a halt nearly crashing into Harry who had paused in his footsteps unexpectedly. They had followed Nott out the door and down a sidewalk, peering into an alleyway. He and Harry were obscured by shadows, out of sight if Theodore should happen to look their way.

Another man approached, equally hidden by the night and the imposing buildings. Whispers of rage could be heard, drifting between the brick that surrounded them, but their words were obscured by distance

"You don't have a blasted pair of Extendable Ears, do you?" Harry hissed into the night, his voice lost by passing cars. Draco made a show of patting his very few pockets before shaking his head, indicating that no, he did not. Harry swore. "You have any idea who that is?"

Draco had half a mind to be ticked off at the insinuation, but he kept his mouth shut, indicating only a no. The mysterious man disapparated, pulling a shriek of frustration from Nott's lungs. He kicked a trashcan waiting to be emptied, the metal clanging against the ground as he stalked back in the direction he came. The direction Draco and Harry had hid.

A tight grip was felt on his arm and he tried to yank it free in confusion. Then came the pull behind his bellybutton, the sensation of his very atoms being rearranged, compacted, and set right again, and then he was on firm ground. "What was that?" He asked, ignoring the newness of the surroundings.

"Did you want to stay and find out?"

Draco's lip gave a twitch at Potter's indignation, watching him as he fell into a slowly collapsing couch. He looked around him, at the clothing that had been discarded across the floor, the dishes that were piling up, and even the rubbish bin which's smell indicated it needed to be emptied. "You're a slob, Potter."

Something crossed Harry's face. Draco was too far away to read it, or perhaps too in the gray to understand. The sharp, three words that fell from Harry's mouth gave him all he needed to know. "You can go."

Draco approached him, the remembrance that Harry was his _boss_ latching on to everything else. He'd never cared before, perhaps this time he should, but he wasn't going to. Instead he lowered himself beside Harry. Taking a seat of his own.

A five o'clock shadow could be seen across Harry's usually clean shaven face, gray and black stubble alike sprouting from his chin. The beginning of crows feet could be seen around his eyes, similar lines near the corners of his mouth. When had they gotten so fucking old? He touched his own face absentmindedly, he didn't remember age lines crossing his own features.

"What is it?" His voice cut through Draco's thoughts like a blade, solidifying what he knew he needed to do. Harry had slouched into the corner, his body lowered into the cushions. It was almost too easy. Draco adjusted himself, edging closer and hovering over him. He waited for an objection, a scolding, and received nothing.

His head was lowered, eyelids fluttering shut in anticipation. The warmth of Harry pressed into him, begging him to come closer. He grasped at Draco's clothes, searching for something to get a hold of. He smelt of ash, freshly burnt wood that pulled a nostalgia deep from within him. He snogged him harder, drawing the taste of piss water beer into his mouth, chewing on Harry's bottom lip .

He heard a murmur of something against his lips and the contact was broken, each of them breathing heavily. Draco wiped at his mouth, removing the shared spittle that wet his lips.

"You fucking dolt." Harry laughed, being the one to initiate the contact this time. "That was a moan, not a protest." Supporting himself, He pressed into Draco, lips meeting his again while a firm rod dragged against his arm. One hand weaved into the black hair, pulling roughly at the roots while his fingernails dug into Harry's scalp.

His body relaxed, abdomen dropping downward, his back taking on a concave appearance. His dick was lowered in the process, no longer a teasing, feather light touch, but a throbbing one of desire. Draco twisted his wrist, gripping what he could through Harry's bloody stiff jeans. The very ones he had admired earlier he now cursed.

His finger hooked around Harry's waistband, sliding the button from the hole. Draco paused, waiting for the objection, the break in contact that didn't come. Next came the zipper. The fastenings undone, the jeans hung loosely around his hips, the hem of blue pants peeking from beneath the exposed, gradually falling jeans.

Harry pulled back, the sound of lips coming apart filling the air. Draco gave a needy sigh, reclining. "You broke the law, Malfoy."

Harry paused, waiting for a return in banter, but Draco was too fixated on the sparkle in his eyes. The flecks of golden sunlight having sprung to life in each iris. A part of Harry he had never seen before. Words were not the easiest thing to form.

"This is your punishment, not mine." He reached a hand up, behind his neck and grabbed the neck of his muggle shirt, pulling over his head. Though the muscles of his shoulders, his arms were defined, his stomach was not. It was flat, the hint of what could be sleek muscle teasing Draco. He reached out, aching to run his fingers across it, to trace the lines that were visible, but his hand was slapped away. "_Punishment _means no touching."

He stood from his stooped position, the previously unbuttoned jeans sliding from his hips and to the floor, mingling with the rest of the filth. His own hand dove inside his pants, fondling the growing bulge, a soft gasp freeing itself from his lips. "May I?" He asked after a moment, reaching for Draco's hand with his free one.

"Yes." He held it up, allowing Harry to guide it. His fingers slid across the waistband, the tip pulling it from his flesh before he received a gentle smack on the back of his hand. It was then guided downwards, over the center, where Harry paused. Draco took his chance, stroking his cock through the fabric and Harry didn't protest.

His own erection throbbed, fighting to be free of the confines that were his clothing. "Is it my turn?" He asked, failing to keep the desperation from his voice.

"Not quite yet." Harry leaned over him again, propping himself up with the hand that had been fondling himself and guiding Draco with the other. Draco's finger slid down the back of Harry's drawers this time, skidding along the surface of his ass. He squeezed his cheek, allowing his nails to scratch Harry slightly

Harry slung a leg over him, resting his weight on Draco's thighs, his legs having stretched out on the couch in response. The palms of Harry's hands slid beneath the thin, cotton shirt that Draco wore, edging it upwards. "Take it off."

Draco did as he was told, enjoying his punishment. Harry bent forward, dragging his tongue across the happy trail that led beneath Draco's waistband. He pulled the simple button of Draco's dress robes free with his teeth before planting another kiss on his abdomen. "Those too."

He climbed off of Draco, giving him the ability to stand and loosening the restricting clothing. His trousers puddled around his ankles and he made to sit when another stern glare crossed Harry's face. "Those too."

Down slid the gray underpants, leaving him completely naked. Harry stood, removing the remainder of his clothes and their soft flesh pressed together. Hands explored areas they had never before touched, tongues dipping behind ears, down the curves of necks.

Harry dropped, level with Draco's cock. His tongue wound around the head, giving the occasional suck while a finger teased beneath his balls. Draco trembled as his dick was pulled into Harry's mouth, a gentle suck given at the top before releasing him again. "I can't…" He breathed heavily, focusing on the ability to form words, his mind completely occupied with more important things. "…Is my punishment almost over?"

Harry released him, gazing up into his pleading eyes with a lecherous grin. "One last thing. Fuck me, Draco Malfoy."

His shoulders dropped as Harry assumed the position, turning around for him and leaning onto the couch they had previously occupied. His fingers were placed on his asshole, rubbing in gentle circles, coaxing it open. Harry exhaled in pleasure, the slightest bit of sound escaping him. One finger entered, continuing the motion, and then the next.

Draco's free hand snaked to his front, pressing firmly against Harry's belly, holding him close. When he was afraid that Harry might orgasm did he remove his fingers, cast a lubrication spell and allow his dick to slip inside. He held Harry tightly against him, his pelvis pounding against his backside

"Draco…" Harry moaned, each vowel dragged out in ecstasy. He felt Harry's legs tighten, the muscles of his thighs flex before everything relaxed and Draco's name was cried out a final time. He leaned heavily into Harry, focusing on the fact that Harry still held his own cock before he felt a tingle at the base of his spine, the sensation spreading through his legs. "Damnit, Potter." He ground out, cum spilling from him in pleased exasperation.


End file.
